What He was
by LovingNinja
Summary: For years, Zoe struggled with the memories. He was there to comfort her before she even realized it. Now, he was the reason she couldn't sleep at night. Post-Film. Please Read and Review! HobanXZoe


**A one-shot on Zoe and her struggles with the constant death surrounding her. Wash, who was her shield, is just another body added to the pile, a body that shouldn't be there.**

**I do not own Firefly or the characters. Please Read and Review! PLEASE call me out if you think any of the characters are being Out-of-Character! Thank you!**

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It was inevitable. Many veterans in any battle of any war, on either side were plagued by the aftermath. Any small noise, image, even a single word would be enough to bring about the brutal flashbacks. During the first nights of peace the insomnia developed on the battlefield was all too noticeable. There was no need to keep your eyes open in your own room, in your own bed; but, for some reason you still didn't feel safe. After a month and a half, your eyes would finally close, but only five minutes would pass before you shot up with a scream in your lungs. All of those bodies, those horrible gut-wrenching noises of pops, crackles, and bloodcurdling calls of longing to continue living ended in a second by the bright lights of explosions. Every night was the same routine. Sleep, scream, cry, and cycle.

By the time she met him, the memories had been reduced to once every week and a half; on average it seemed. On the mornings after, that gorram pilot was more annoying than usual. She wondered how the captain put up with him. The incessant rambles, the carefree attitude, almost every sentence was nonsensical. It was grinding her nerves, and it wasn't much longer before she gave him a cold warning. There was still very little about him that she trusted. Despite it, however, he still continued to speak with her. She tried to be civil, she was usually on her best behavior, except the mornings after those nights.

When Kaylee came aboard, the tension in her shoulders seemed to lighten. Wash had someone he could talk to about the ship, and both seemed more than elated to have the other. She could finally breathe, and it was weeks before he even attempted to converse with her.

But, then there was an incident.

During one of their respectable jobs, she was wounded in a gunfight, but not by a gun. As she moved through the trees, she had been so preoccupied with not letting Mal get hit, along with herself, that she had slipped down a short, but steep, slope. A thick broken branch was sticking from the side and created a deep gash on the left of her abdomen. She worked through the pain, and with luck, Mal and she were able to get back to the ship safely; her leaning on him for support. Kaylee and Wash were worried, but Mal was quick to tend to her wound. He was thorough from the practice, but in the end, she caught an infection. They were almost empty concerning any antibiotics.

She was laid up with a fever in the infirmary, and as they searched for any medical supplier they could, Mal and Kaylee would take turns watching over her. Wash was quick with it, and soon they had antibiotics to flush out her infection, but it was still a while before her fever broke. In exchange for the medicine, Mal was asked to take care of an infestation within the town they landed in, and though they offered to help, Wash and Kaylee were told to keep still.

It was around noon when Wash stepped into the infirmary, Kaylee resting her head on the edge of the bed, eyes closed. He smiled, tapped her shoulder and she stirred awake. "It ain't much," he said, "but there's some lunch on the table. Go 'n eat, I'll watch her."

"You sure?"

"Positive."

She didn't say another word. She placed a quick peck of a kiss to his cheek and slipped out quietly to her food, hand lazily scratching at her head as a soft yawn slipped from her lips.

Wash sighed. He sat down, eyes scanning over her. He placed a hand over her forehead, cheek, and under her chin where it met with her neck. There was sweat, but she felt a tad cooler. "Fever's gone, huh?" he mumbled. His eyes took in the sight and noticed that even while sleeping she seemed wound up a bit tight. He often tried to make her laugh, as it was the best medicine, but it only seemed to backfire. Her brows were knitting together, and he wondered how in the 'Verse could he get her to smile.

Then, she jolted upright for a second before slamming back down. She was screaming and tears were streaming down her cheeks as she clenched her eyes shut. Wash jumped, unsure of what to do immediately, but he soon grabbed her hand with one of his own, his other caressing the crown of her head softly. He shushed, cooed, anything to comfort her enough to quiet her down. She peeked up, and he smiled down at her as she was gasping, trying to reclaim herself. "You're okay, Zoë," he assured, voice a whisper. "Just breathe. You're on the ship, nothing can hurt you." A thumb, rough from the years of work, wiped away a trail of tears. "It's okay. Let it out. I won't tell a soul."

She wasn't sure if it was the fog of sleep, the infection, or anything else the 'Verse was throwing at her at that moment, but for some reason, she listened to him. With only the minimum of vocal cries, the salt water slipped past her lashes, and Wash didn't say a word. When she came to, when she was able to walk around once more, when they finally took to the sky once more, she found herself feeling lighter. Both the captain and Kaylee were perfectly normal, everything was how it was. Except for one thing: Wash. The pilot spoke barely a word to her in the time of several days. He would mostly bob his head in acknowledgment, or give a little wave. During supper, he mostly hid in the cockpit until the others left to their rooms in which he would take on the leftovers. She was beginning to get even more aggravated than before.

So, she found herself staying at the table after supper, right opposite of the entrance.

When she heard footsteps, her eyes shot to the hatchway, and there he was, caught halfway in taking a step down into the galley. His mouth hung open, and brows furrowed, his fingers twitched around the collar of his tacky shirt. He forced a chuckle, obviously nervous as he took a step back, hand gripping tightly onto the open hatch. "Hey, there, Zoë," he choked with a crooked smile. "I thought you'd be already in your bunk or somethin'."

"Sit down," she ordered sternly, and without hesitation he did as he was told. He stumbled a bit, but he took a seat adjacent from her to her right. He was twiddling his bumbling digits, fidgeting between that and tapping them atop the surface of the table.

His smile was wide, his lips and brows visibly twitching, "What can I do for ya?"

"Understand, I don't beat around the bush, so I'm gonna be straight with you. You've been avoiding me." He made to cut her off, but she wouldn't let him. "I don't take much insult if you want to keep to yourself, but when you're going out of your way to hide, forcing yourself to eat scraps and lose weight, that's something I can't let go." Her arms were crossed, eyes cold. "Captain needs his crew in tip-top shape. No matter what you feel towards me, don't be so pathetic to let it interfere with what has to get done."

"So, you want me to be honest."

"That's what I'm sayin'."

"All right," he straightened his back and shoulders, chest out, "I'll be honest, then."

"Be my guest."

"Okay, then," he started to nod his head in thought, humming a bit as he avoided Zoë's eyes. "Okay, to be honest," he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, "I thought you'd want space."

"I always want space," Zoë responded immediately.

With that, Wash gave a single burst of laughter before quickly silencing, "I-I know that. I mean, I thought you'd 'specially wannna have yer own space after what happened."

"Nothin' especial happened."

"Well, I mean, with the waterworks and whatnot-"

"Wash."

"Yes ma-, yes ma'am?"

At first, Zoë didn't say a single thing. She paused, inhaled, sighed, and eyes lowered on the table before she looked back up at the pilot. "I understand that you think you're helpin' me, but it'd be best if you just went on like you were doin' before."

Wash, in return, made a sound in similarity of a half-moan, "Can I ask you somethin'?"

"Go ahead."

"That…doesn't happen often…does it?"

Almost instantly, Zoë rose, chair scraping the floor as it shifted abruptly, "Don't see how that's any of your business,"

"You said I could be honest."

"Not nosey."

"Call it a concern!" he jumped to his feet, arm outstretched in a gesture of desperation. "I know what you and Mal've been through, 'n I know what that can do to a person."

"You don't know nothin'."

"Zoë," he made to take hold of her hand, but she snapped it away, eyes snarling at him for being so friendly. "Zoë, please, I know I don't _know_, but 'm aware. I'm not an idiot. Not completely anyway…" His arms dropped to his sides as he huffed in exasperation, looking up at the ceiling, "I just…wanted to be of some help…like before…"

Zoë rose a brow, "Before?"

"_Yeah_! Before! When you…and me…" he scratched at his scalp. "Don't ask me to forget it, 'cuz I don't wanna. I know it wasn't your moment of glory, but it was _mine_! It was the moment I got to come to your rescue. I could be…your support…y'know…?"

At that, the First Mate of the ship let out a puff of a laugh, hand on her hip, "Support…" She shook her head, "You think I want your gorram support?"

"No," his hands floundered as he gave a nervous smile. "Well, I don't know, if ya do, ya do, if ya don't, ya don't." He shook his head, "Anyway, the point is, it's not about what you want, I mean, it _is_, but what I'm talking about right now is what I want, and I wanna be your support whether or not _you_ want me to be."

"Pilot, that don't make a lick of sense, I hope y'know."

A tumble of chuckles slipped from his lips as his hands tried to find a place to perch, "I-I know." His eyes were trying to keep with hers, forcing himself not to waver as they were stern and set in their place. He didn't say anything, didn't dare, even with the silence bearing down on him like lead.

Zoë seemed a bit calmer and she crossed her arms, face appearing to gain a level of softness. She released a breath, "Shave off that bug on your lip, I'll considerate it," she stated, it sounded cross yet a tad teasing unless Wash was completely losing his mind, which was possible up here in space. She didn't wait for him to reply and turned on her heel. She was done with this discussion, and she headed to her bunk.

That was the start of it. It lit the torch, or at least started the embers to everything. The ice wasn't exactly broken, but it was cracked just a smidge. There were more talks, better interaction between the two. He didn't miss a chance to remind her, when they were in private, that he was all ears to anything she felt that she wanted to share or couldn't keep in. She never took him up on his offer, but she never berated him for it. She was a strong woman, independent, and everyone knew that, including the pilot. He would say he would never try to push her to show any weaknesses, but encourage her to stay healthy, just as she had when he wasn't eating as much during the time he was avoiding her.

He never did shave off that mustache, not once until the night they exchanged two simple words of "I do". It surprised no one more on that ship than Zoë herself, and as she lied in bed her wedding night, waiting for her new husband to slip back in with a clean-shaven face. Then, it hit her. He hadn't seen her tears, hadn't heard her cries since that one time, and she worried if she was going to ruin this wonderful moment with another incident.

"All righty, my goddess of the night," he chuckled, arms wide as his underwear hugged his hips, "are you ready for our first restful bliss as a unified two?"

She smiled, hands crumpling her bed sheet, "Depends, are we gonna rest, or unify?"

"Ho, ho~!" his body visibly trembled as he shuffled over, slipping between the covers and Zoë; her giggling at his excitement. As he adjusted himself above her, one hand slipped up to caress the flesh of his wife's neck before he grabbed her chin and placed a kiss to her lips. Her fingers tugged at the band of his boxers and she could already feel a pressure against her thigh. "_How Shi Sung Chung_."

"Is that so?"

"Of course," Wash nipped at her collarbone, "especially after I get you in your birthday suit."

Raising a brow, Zoë scoffed, "I hope your '_How Shi Sung Chung_'isn't me in the nude."

"You mean that's not how this whole thing works?"

"Husband," her voice was threatening, but the laugh she was holding back was hurting its sting.

"Oh, dearest stars in the 'Verse," his voice grew raspy, "call me that again." But, before she could comply with this wish, he kissed her once more, and their first night together became a wonderful blur that would never be forgotten.

With luck, not a single shriek was heard, not a single tear was seen. Zoë was able to sleep well and wake up with a smile that hurt her mouth. Her chest was aflutter, even with the dreadful snores falling out of Wash's wide open cave of a mouth. A rough hand reached upwards to play with soft blonde tufts with a practically unnoticeable red tint. He didn't budge an inch, but it looked like his snore was losing volume. Maybe, instead of him comforting her, she was going to comfort him more.

That morning was going to remain with Zoë for as long as she lived. When her husband woke up, his eyes widened and the first thing that came from his mouth was, "_Wo Bu Shin Wo Dah Yan Jing_!" When she asked what his manner was for, he explained, "I just can't believe that the first thing I get to see in the morning is such beauty."

And, so, it went on that way. A month went by before what Zoë feared came to be. She was revisited by her memories, and just as before, she woke up sobbing and shaking. Wash was quick to respond. Almost instantly she was in his arms, one hand rubbing her back while the other cradled the back of her skull. He rested his chin atop her crown and she trembled as her nails dug into his side. After a moment, Hoban Washburne adjusted him and wife to sit upright. He held her cheeks with both palms, looking her in the eyes before resting his forehead against hers, brushing the tips of their noses together as he spoke to her, voice soft and words meaning nothing relevant to the situation. It wasn't too long before he was given just a single chuckle, but it was short-lived as soon Zoë was ready to try to rest once more, sleeping cradled in the embrace that she never once dreamed of.

An embrace that would haunt her.

She made her way into the cockpit, humming as the day had yet to dissend into utter catastrophe. The man that held her heart was sitting on his throne, clicking away at a few of the controls as his eyes were puzzled. "Somethin' wrong?" she inquired, not entirely worried as her husband was a capable pilot.

"Nothin', Baby," he shook his head. "Just testing out some possible coordinates to get us there faster."

"Don't need to try too hard. Captain isn't in much of a hurry anyway."

"Well, I'd like to make sure that we can get there anyway, since we're heading towards empty."

"What do we have?"

"A little under halfway out."

With that, she laughed, a hand on his shoulder and gaining his attention, "How about you focus on something a bit more urgent than the well-to-do fuel?"

"And, what would that be?" he hummed, turning completely around in his chair to face his soul mate.

She shook her head, "Don't ask a question you know the answer to."

As she stepped back, he opened his arms wide, grin wide as he welcomed her, but just in a split second it was gone. A wetness hit her face, sticky and a little warm. It was red, and there her husband sat, hunched over with sharpened metal pushed through the center of his chest. The glance of his face she caught was void of life, nothing like the man she married. Her heart was racing, face gaining heat as she felt a pressure surrounding her eyes and a tightness in her chest.

She screamed. Tears were cascading down to her chin as she rose to sit in her bed. Hand grasping the back of her head as she tried to grasp her wits. However, a sudden pain in her abdomen gained her attention and she released yet another cry. Her hand grasped at it, and the second pain to come was just under her ribs. "_B__ǎ__ob__ǎ__o_," she whispered. She looked down, a hand atop her swollen belly as she slowly regained her breath, tears still dripping but they ceased from excreting from her glands.

Her husband was gone in the physical sense. But, he was with her in spirit, as Book would have said. With him held the most beautiful memories, but at the same time, the very thing he once protected her from, he now was. The harsh reality of not only his death, but in the fashion he lost his life, was forever stuck, burned in her mind. She knew if he could decide, he wouldn't have allowed Zoë to see the way he expired, but things could not always be helped. He was her new nightmare. However, when he left, he did not entirely leave her alone as with her was a special being. Within her womb was their child.

This child was her new comfort. As he had done before, every time she awoke from the bloody memory, the baby reminded its mother just where she was and with whom. Though, the baby was a bit rougher than Wash ever was, but maybe that's what Zoë needed. She needed the wakeup call, and if anyone was going to give it to her, it should be Wash's child, her child. "_B__ǎ__ob__ǎ__o_," she hummed, resting back as she lied her head, a tiny smile on her face. She wasn't alone, not once since she shared that moment with Hoban Washburne was Zoë ever alone. She may forever be plagued by the memories of war from years before to months before, but it didn't matter much as she was where she was. She was going to live on, and this child was going to live well, for it, too, would never be alone.

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**-The End**

**Thank you so much for reading!**

**~LovingNinja~**


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